The Surgeon's Surprise Twins (13 page)

Phyllis had called only minutes before. Why wasn't she answering?

Just as Bailey expected the call to go to voice mail, she heard her sister, but she seemed to be addressing someone else. “Thank you. This is important! I really appreciate… Bailey?”

“What's going on?”

“You have to help me!” Phyllis sounded in panic mode. “The police have this all wrong.”

The police? “Have what all wrong?”

“They came busting in at some unearthly hour and dragged me out of bed. They won't tell me anything except I'm being booked for fraud.” In the background, Bailey heard an ominous clang, like something out of a prison movie. “I heard somebody mention money being moved around, that that's why they had to take me in, and
somebody else told him to put a lid on it. You have to bail me out! And get a lawyer.”

Phyllis had been arrested. “Where are you?” Bailey asked.

“The Safe Harbor police department. They have this little jail here and I for sure don't want to be dragged down to the county lockup. I need help
now.
”

Behind Bailey, Owen had come into the room, wearing a short silk robe. She struggled to figure out what to do. “How much is bail?”

“A hundred thousand dollars.”

“What!” Bailey couldn't believe it. “I wouldn't know where to find that kind of money. Or even a tenth of it.” She'd read an article once about bail bondsmen, and had the impression you paid them ten percent of the money they put up for bail. And while most bail got returned once the person showed up for court, that ten percent was gone forever.

“Just do it!” Phyllis was crying, and angry, too, but not at Bailey, she could tell.

Owen leaned in the doorway. “Tell me,” he said.

Her first thought was to close ranks, that this was a family matter. But he was family. “I'll see what I can do,” she told her sister. “Don't freak out.”

“I'm counting on you!”

“I know. See you soon.” Bailey clicked off.

Owen folded his arms. “Well?”

“She's been arrested.” Bailey filled in as much as she'd learned. “What do I do?”

“
We
get a lawyer and have bail reduced.” Owen took his own phone from his pocket. “I'll ask the hospital attorney for a recommendation.”

“Oh! That's a good idea.” She'd forgotten all about
Tony Franco. He handled the hospital's affairs but was also Nora's brother-in-law.

Owen paused with the cell in his hand. “What about Boone? Was he arrested, too?”

“I…I forgot to ask. But I don't think so. She didn't mention him.” With a sinking feeling, Bailey remembered Owen saying that he didn't trust his brother. And judging by his scowl, these events didn't surprise him nearly as much as she would have expected.

Fraud, Phyllis had said. Which meant Bailey's savings might be gone, stolen by the people she'd trusted most.

Stolen by a man whose babies were wriggling inside her right this very minute.

Owen had never seen Bailey so distraught. Thank goodness he was here, he thought as he reached Tony at home, then put in a call to the recommended attorney, a fellow named Joseph Noriega. To the man's credit, he didn't hesitate to jump in to the case on a Saturday morning and promised to call back after checking into the situation.

“I need to go down and get Phyllis out,” Bailey said for the umpteenth time. She'd been pacing through the house in anguish, barely taking time to shower, dress and down a bite of breakfast.

“You can't get her out until the lawyer arranges bail,” Owen explained, also for the umpteenth time.

“A hundred thousand dollars! They have to reduce it.” Her face had gone pale. “They can't consider her a flight risk, can they?”

“If Boone's left the country, they'll assume she might join him.” Owen had learned that much during his brief conversation with the attorney.

Bailey plopped onto the living room couch, her reddish-brown hair curling wildly around her face.
Why did this have to happen on our first real morning together?
Owen grumbled inwardly. But he knew why, sort of.

Bailey's next words pricked his conscience. “I don't understand their rush. Whatever's happened, I'm sure Phyllis
and Boone intend to make good on the investments if they possibly can.”

Owen sat beside her. Time to reveal at least one of his secrets. “I'm afraid this is partly my…doing.” He'd nearly said “fault,” but the fault lay with Boone, not him.

“What do you mean?”

“Boone's father was a con man, and I thought I recognized the signs of someone preparing a swindle. Maybe I overreacted, but I felt a responsibility to those senior citizen investors.”
And to you,
Owen nearly added, but he didn't want to lay any of the blame on Bailey. “I discussed my concerns with a fraud investigator at the police department.”

“When?” Her eyes shone a luminous green in the morning light.

He couldn't read anything into her response. Not anger, not resentment, but not forgiveness, either. “About a week and a half ago.”

She let out a long breath. “That's a relief.”

“Why?” he asked in astonishment.

She peered at him guiltily. “Because a couple of weeks ago I said a few things to Nora and I'm sure she told Leo. I was afraid this was all
my
doing. But it was both of us.”

Financial investigations didn't happen overnight, Owen suspected. “They've probably been looking into this for quite a while. Long before you or I—” His phone rang. “That might be the lawyer.”

It was. Noriega had accomplished a remarkable amount in a few hours, as it turned out.

“I can't get bail reduced. There's too great a risk she'll skip the country.”

“Why?” Owen asked.

“Apparently Mr. Storey's actions triggered the arrest—something to do with trying to move accounts the police have been monitoring,” the lawyer explained.

Monitoring. That supported Owen's belief that this investigation hadn't just started in the past few weeks. “Move them where?”

“Offshore,” the man said. “So his wife is definitely a risk to leave the country and join him overseas. However, as bail, the court will accept a lien against the couple's half ownership in that house you mentioned.”

Great. Owen could end up co-owning this place with the state of California. However, since the attorney had explained that bail money had to be demonstrably clean—not illegally obtained—he saw no reasonable alternative. “If that's what Mrs. Storey wants to do, it's fine with me,” he said.

“I'll confirm it with her and make the arrangements,” Noriega said.

“I'm due in surgery, but Mrs. Storey's sister can meet you at the jail.” Owen glanced at Bailey, who nodded.

As he filled her in on the latest news, he watched her turn even paler than before. “Boone's moving accounts offshore? He really is a con man. You were right.”

“Let's not jump to conclusions.” Hearing his own words, Owen shook his head. “But yes, I believe he is. It's better if we face facts.”

“Not Phyllis!” Bailey flared. “She'd never cheat people.”

From what he'd seen of his sister-in-law, Owen tended to agree. “Perhaps not. But she chose to believe what was in her own self-interest.”

“She trusted the man she loved!” No question about where Bailey's loyalties lay.

“Granted.” Owen didn't want to argue. “Bailey…you may have some hard decisions to make as a result of all this.”

“Hard decisions?” Her forehead puckered obstinately. “I'm standing by my sister. What's hard about that?”

It was the wrong time to tell her about the babies' paternity. Besides, she hadn't entered this pregnancy with the intention of raising two children herself, any more than Owen had. “Nothing, for the moment. I'll be in touch with you later. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks. You've been great about all this.” Bailey let him help her to her feet, a not-so-simple task. “This isn't exactly your problem, but I'm glad you're here.”

“For a change?” he teased.

She slid her arms around his waist and Owen pulled her close, pressing his cheek into her hair. “For…however long you're around,” he thought he heard her say, but the words were muffled.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he told her. “Except to surgery.”

“Right.” Stepping back, she gave him a little salute. “Go help make some woman's dreams come true, Doc.”

All the way to the hospital, he carried that image of Bailey standing in the living room, a small, brave figure prepared to do battle with whatever forces were arrayed against her family.

A family of which he was a part. Whether she truly accepted that or not.

 

F
ORTUNATELY
, P
HYLLIS'S NAME
turned out to be on the house's title papers along with her husband's, and by midday the attorney got her released. Bailey was waiting with a hug and a ride back to the rented mansion by the harbor.

“I don't understand why I haven't heard from Boone.” Phyllis had reverted to a childhood habit of chewing her
lips. “I sent emails and texts, but you know how things are when you travel. Sometimes stuff doesn't get through.”

Much as Bailey wished she could go along with her sister's excuses, she couldn't. “Email works fine overseas,” she said. “When's the last time you heard from him?”

“A few days.” In the passenger seat, Phyllis twisted a strand of blond hair.

“Where is he?” Bailey halted at a red light.

“He told me he was going to New Zealand, but Mr. Noriega says he's supposedly on some Caribbean island. Something about having a bank account there, but I didn't know anything about that. He'd have told me.” Phyllis spoke fast, chattering in her nervousness.

“It's not one of those islands like in the movies where people keep secret bank accounts to launder stolen money, is it?” Bailey blurted.

Her sister shot her a sharp look. “That's Switzerland. And Boone wouldn't do such a thing. This is all a misunderstanding.”

“Owen says…” Bailey broke off. It wasn't right to repeat hurtful gossip.

“Owen says what?” Phyllis demanded.

“Just…” She might as well finish what she'd started. “That Boone's father was a con artist. That he used to scam people.”

“Owen's turning on his own brother?” Phyllis folded her arms furiously. “Exactly what I'd expect from Dr. Hoity-Toity. He thinks he's better than everyone else.”

“He does not!” Okay, fair was fair. “Much.”

“When exactly did he share this ugly nonsense about Boone's father with you, anyway?” Phyllis asked. “You two have gotten awfully chummy.”

“
Someone
arranged for us to live together,” Bailey pointed out.

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“There seem to be a lot of misunderstandings going around.” Bailey hadn't meant to be hard on her sister, especially under the circumstances, but she couldn't help it. “Phyllis, I invested my lifesavings with you guys.”

“And you'll get them back, with a big profit, if the cops don't close us down prematurely!”

“Are you certain of that?”

The question hung in the air. Phyllis's mouth worked a few times before she said, “I can't believe it. My own sister is against me.”

“I am not!” Bailey said.

“That didn't sound like loyalty to me!”

Bailey's gut tightened. They hadn't had much, growing up—a series of stepfathers and their mother's live-in boyfriends, one rundown apartment after another, an ever-changing panorama of schools, teachers and casual friends, at least until high school. As a result, she, Phyllis and their mother had formed a tight triangle. Loyalty had meant everything. And after their mother's death from a stroke five years ago, that had left the pair of them.

Until Boone came along. Of course, Bailey had accepted and supported her sister's marriage. But Owen was right. The guy didn't deserve their trust. Police weren't fools. They hadn't jumped into this investigation on a whim.

“Phyllis,” she said, “no one has ever been more loyal to you than I am. I'm just not so sure about your husband.”

That stubborn chin jutted out in a familiar gesture. “Owen's always been jealous of his big brother. Boone's dad was smart, and he knew how to make money. Owen's father could barely rub two coins together. Boone told me his dad used to buy him expensive presents, and Owen resented it. That's what this is about.”

“I don't believe that.” Bailey turned onto the drive that
ran along the harbor. It startled her how normal everything looked, a typical Saturday with sailboats and people fishing from the pier. “Owen's had plenty of reason to be upset.”

“Such as?” Phyllis probed.

“Such as you two haven't paid my doctor bills and I didn't get my three-month checkup. Pregnancy is a serious business, especially when there are multiple babies involved.” In the face of her sister's skeptical expression, Bailey added, “They mean a lot to Owen.”

“Oh.
Now
I get it.”

“Now you get what?”

“He told you,” Phyllis said.

Told me what?
Normally, Bailey would have blurted the question, but she'd begun forming a new habit: thinking before she spoke.

A couple of times, she'd caught odd glances between Phyllis and Owen. She'd dismissed the notion that they were up to something, figuring she'd misinterpreted, but now she realized that she had sensed some kind of secret. Something they hadn't told her.

If she let on that she was still in the dark, Phyllis would beat a hasty retreat. And Bailey would have a devil of a time finding out whatever these two were hiding.

What could it be? Some financial arrangement? That seemed unlikely. Then Bailey recalled that, right before her sister's puzzling statement, she'd been talking about the twins and how much they meant to their uncle. Could this have to do with the babies?

Whatever was going on, she didn't believe Owen had been manipulating her. He was straightforward to a fault, venting his moods openly. Sure, he needed to learn tact, but at least he wasn't sneaky like Boone, who smiled,
shook your hand and paid you compliments while scheming to steal your money.

Well, if she hoped to get any information out of Phyllis, she'd have to play this carefully. “Yes, he told me,” Bailey said, and cut off her impulse to follow that statement with a string of chatter. Nora had told her once about an investigative technique Leo used in interrogating suspects. It was called silence.

People hated silence. They wanted to fill it up. Bailey knew plenty about that, she reflected wryly, because in the past she'd been talkative to a fault. Thank goodness they were stuck in a line of traffic as sightseers and tourists hunted for parking spaces. Phyllis had nowhere to go and nothing else to do except talk.

A moment ticked by. “You're not mad?”

Bailey shrugged and kept her gaze on the car ahead of them.

“I don't blame you,” Phyllis said. “But what was the difference, really? It's not like we cooked this up to take advantage of you. We discovered Boone's low sperm count early in the process of trying to have kids. Donating didn't seem to bother Owen. But then I ran into problems with miscarrying, as you know. So we already had the sperm whether I carried the baby or you did.”

Owen was the father of her children? Bailey could hardly breathe.

During those ultrasounds, no wonder he'd stared raptly at the screen. And that explained his intense concern about her prenatal care, his interest in the babies' gender, even the way he'd pampered her at home. It wasn't her, Bailey, that inspired him. It was the fact that she was carrying his children.

All this while, he'd known. And hadn't said a word.

“Don't think this lets you off the hook for anything,”
Phyllis warned. “Boone's still their father for all practical purposes.”

Bailey might be having trouble sorting out her feelings about Owen, but she had no hesitation regarding her brother-in-law. “Their father?” she snapped. “He's shown zero interest in these children and you know it. Not once did he go to the doctor with us. And considering that he's got money in an offshore account, he could have paid for my obstetrical care to ensure their safety. Now he's flown the coop, dumped you and me and the babies. Stop defending him, Phyllis. Even if it were his sperm, he's a lousy excuse for a father.”

Her sister stared at her in shock. Just then, the traffic cleared, and Bailey was able to pull into the driveway of the fabulous, ridiculously overpriced rental mansion. To her, it seemed just another piece of evidence condemning her brother-in-law.